LAD: A British Bad Boy Romance Novel (Bad Boys of London Book 1) (3 page)

— 3 —
 

I couldn’t give two shits about the suitcase. Replacing the clothes, buying a new toothbrush, a new iPad, were no concern to me. What pissed me off is I left that small baggie of coke slipped into the lining of the thing. It would have been a Godsend right now. Dealing with the self-absorbed rantings of my uncle isn’t a pastime I enjoyed, but he happened to be the only family member left I had to put up with so I considered it my obligation.
 

“You know I'm loathed to play the father in these circumstances, my boy. Uncle Eddie rubbed at his brow. “But I must say, Felix, that you really need to be more responsible and stop putting me in these positions. Luisa told me about the Mercedes-Benz we loaned you.”

“I drank a little too much that night. Would you rather me have driven home drunk? I do believe you’d lecture me about that just the same, would you not?” I handed him an old-fashioned I’d mixed and took a sip of my own.

“The valet had to drive around London for two days before he found it,” he said.

“You didn’t tell me it was lost and I’d forgot I’d borrowed it.”

“Lord have mercy.” Although a portly man, my uncle dressed pristinely, classily, as any manager of a luxury hotel should be.

“I consider picking up the wrong suitcase to be a minor offense in comparison to misplacing a Mercedes Benz and so I don’t know why we’re having this little tiff.” I moved to light a cigarette by the window. As I took a deep drag I looked out over the London skyline. I realized I should take more opportunities to savor this view from the fifth floor of the hotel.

“There’s no need for your arrogant show, Felix. All I am trying to say is that you need to take more responsibility in general. The owner of this establishment is letting you live here for the sake of charity.”

“Pfft, charity? You think I enjoy living here in this bougie shit-hole?”

“It’s not bougie, my boy. It’s a fine establishment that the well-to-do are proud to stay in and it would do you good to appreciate that you get to stay here like you do. If your father was still here, I promise that he would have had you live elsewhere so that you wouldn’t turn into the tactless, immature playboy that you seem to have become.” It rubbed me wrong how entitled Eddie felt to advise me. Yeah, he might dress well. Then again, how could he not be when his suits were laundered and pressed by hotel staff, his face trimmed by the Chateau’s resident barber, shoes shined in the hotel lounge? And lest I forget Eddie had the great fortune of staying in any available suite whenever he felt like it. So, to lecture me on responsibilities and making your way in the world seemed a little disingenuous when he too received his blessings on the same silver platter mine came on. “You’ve got a way to go, my son.”

I finished half of my old-fashioned in one sip. “Right, well, good chat, Eddie. But I think I’ve got somewhere to be that doesn’t involve being torn a new one.”

“Uh, now, now. We’re not finished,” he said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Did you have to give my card to the Marcos in Los Angeles?”

“I don’t need to do anything. I’m impervious to your assumptions that no luxury hotel will let me in without your reference.” I sipped at my drink.

“Well, put me in his position, would you? I’d be a little curious should some 26-year-old delinquent dressed in leather and nail polish, reeking of booze, decide to shack up in my luxury accommodation.”

“I was a paying customer.”

“On a credit card with my name on it.” He shakes his head in disgust at me.

“Look, mate,” I replied, “you seem to gloss over the fact I do earn my own living unlike many of my peers. And I do believe it’s you who tells me to charge that card so you get your damn flyer miles.” I squashed my fag into the silver ashtray and put on my jacket. “Seriously, fuck this.”

Edward gave a hearty laugh. “Ha! You believe that pouting and strutting you do is sustainable employment? Believe you me, boy, when the years go on and your youth and muscle definition fades you’ll be left with nought. By that point, your aunt and I might even be gone. So, I’d count your blessings now that I’m still here being patient and am willing to offer you some direction and wisdom and start you off on the right path.”

I crouched into one of the velour armchairs and started replacing my boots. “Yeah, shame me. That’ll get me on your side. I’m aware you’re not fond of my profession, being a model is temporary and makes me an extraordinary amount of cash for doing very little.”

“That’s right. Doing very little.” I grit my teeth. “Apply yourself to something and stop covering yourself in that god-forsaken graffiti then perhaps you could make something of yourself that your mother and father would be proud of.” He softened and sat in the chair beside me. “Felix, my boy, you are far more intelligent than you give yourself credit for. Your mum and dad wanted you to inherit this hotel. To settle down. Have a family. But all I see is a different woman escorted to this room each night. And I’m not green on these matters— I know they’re not coming up for tea.” He communicated gravity through his stare.

I rubbed at my stubble in pent up frustration. “I lost a bloody suitcase and this is the shit I get for it?” I said and slammed my tumbler onto the table. “I’m never gonna please you lot. Dad wanted me to graduate University, so I did. Mum wanted me to get a well-paying job, I did. You wanted support from me when Mum and Dad died so I gave up a life in Spain and was there for you guys…” I got up casually and went to the bar to pour another few shots of whiskey. “So, at what point, Uncle Eddie, can I quit trying to please everyone else and just get on with my own fuckin’ life and live it how I want?”

“Is that not what you’re doing with the debauchery— the drinking and the girls and the severe lack of regard for anyone but yourself?”

Unbelievable. I laughed to myself. “None of this is what I want.” My arms gestured widely at both the room and my uncle.

“You ingrate,” he scoffed quietly. “I can see there’s no getting through to you.” I pursed my lips and flared my nostrils. My knuckles went white. “If you’ll excuse me I have actual guests to attend to who appreciate and deserve my caring services.”

“Yeah, you’re excused.”

He walked to the door as I lit another cigarette. Before Edward left, he turned back to me with a changed tone— The contrived, warm one he reserved for patrons of the hotel. “Do be sure to come down for high tea this afternoon at five o’clock. Aunt Margaret would love to catch up with you. She keeps pestering me about it.”

“I’ll try.” My cigarette sizzled at the long drag I took of it. At least, I’d have enough time to get a few drinks in me first.
 

“Oh, one last thing, Felix.” Uncle Edward stood in the doorway. “You’ve got one month.”

“To what?

“To find a job of substance…Or consider yourself out of this hotel.”

I paused, taking my time to study my uncle’s face. It had sternness written all over it. “You’re actually serious? Why you’d save that until…” He slammed the door. “Now to tell me. Prick.” I thought of the cocaine — the precious cocaine — that would be making that bombshell easier to deal with. But it was lost somewhere in this godforsaken city and my dealer had just left on a flight to Istanbul for the week. “Gargghh!” I yelled and lobbed my glass at the wall, shattering it into a rain of shards.
 

As the ring of it dissipated, my phone buzzed.
 

Still good to meet at 4?

Claire. I’d forgotten all about my afternoon rendezvous with a model I’d met at a shoot the other weekend. Perfect timing for a perfect distraction from my current woes. I could finish this drink, give sweet Claire a good bang, take a shower, and still make it to my aunt at five.

— 4 —
 

Claire came and left my bedsheets like a sweet waft of perfume, albeit a forgettable one. To say she lacked charisma would be giving her too much credit. Her personality matched that of a loaf of white bread. However, what she lacked in good banter, she made up for in being an above average fuck. She got me off, I forgot about the bullshit of my life for a few seconds, and she left. Precisely what I’d needed.

Five-thirty rolled around and, after a quick shower, I made my way downstairs. The grandness of the Chateau’s lobby no longer impressed me. In fact, it bored me nowadays. I remained unimpressed by the dramatic mirrored walls, gilded trellis ceiling, and birdcage chandeliers with their ornate metal flowers that surrounded me. Call me ungrateful and bratty, but I also didn’t ask to live here. I stayed here out of necessity to support my aunt and uncle. But it had become clear to me now that they no longer needed my presence and support. Being the privileged perma-guest of the hotel, I felt at liberty to forgo the customary dress code and wear my usual torn jeans, white shirt, and leather jacket. The only rule that I actually adhered to down here was the strict non-smoking rule— For the sake of the children and elderly guests who moved through here.

Aunt Margaret, or Maggie, was, of course, as punctual as ever, waiting at her favorite table by the overgrown potted fern. Her wealthy appearance rivaled that of her husband’s, my Uncle Edward. Her knitted Chanel suit fit snug against her somewhat roundish figure, and her single row of sensible pearls rested easily on her chubby neck. She gave a modest smile upon seeing me and took a sip from her water glass.

“No. No, no, no, no,” she tutted to my appearance.

“C’mon now,” I said with a crooked smile and pushed my hair off my face.

“Felix, one of these days you must follow the dress code, dear. You look like a right sore thumb in here. You’re making the ladies who lunch gossip about me.” Aunt Maggie smiled playfully. She would love nothing more than to see me in slacks and a blazer but did, at least, have a sense of humor toward the ridiculousness of the well-to-do lives we lead.
 

“A good afternoon to you, too.” I gave her a prim kiss on her cheek. “How’ve you been, Maggie?” She smelt of her usual variety of gardenias and rose, and made a kissing sound in the air.
 

“I’m well, thank you. Do be seated.”

I gestured over to the waiter and mouthed him to fetch me a whiskey straight.

“I’ve been meaning to discuss some things, dear,” she said.
 

“I’m not having another lecture today, Maggie.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

I shook my head, wondering what I might be scolded for this time— the drugs, the booze, or the women? In that moment, Dan, the resident pianist, began his usual afternoon performance for the guests— A perfect soundtrack for the scrutiny of my bad ways.

“Go on then. What have I done now?”

Sure enough, Auntie began to talk about the weather, the temperature of her tea, the freshness of the Devonshire clotted cream. Not to be fooled as these were merely her tactics to segue into a more lengthy discussion about the faults of my character. I let Auntie have her speech whilst I glanced around the room hoping to catch the sight of some hot bird to distract me a while.

Sure enough, the busty blonde waitress that I usually so much enjoyed the sight of was on duty today. I could sense that she had been eyeing me since my arrival so I gave her a wink and reclined in my chair. Of course, a few feet away from blondie stood Luisa, the Spanish hostess with the long legs and slim waist. She seemed a bit more conservative than the busty waitress and would, in my opinion, require too much groundwork to even have a chance with her.

I sat up straight again and ruffled my hair.

“You know, I and your mother were close, Felix,” Maggie continued.

“I know, Auntie.”

“And so, I think I owe her a service to…Ah, one moment. I need more biscuits.”